


Of Nargles and Wizards

by siao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Underage Sex, Crossdressing, Drama, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Hilarity Ensues, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morally Ambiguous Character, Politics, Pureblood Culture, Romance, Slow Build, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siao/pseuds/siao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the most part, Harry Potter was a normal little boy - if you exclude the fact that his relatives call him Helen and he's pretending to be a girl. So maybe finding out he's a wizard (and one destined for greatness at that) isn't so strange. As he journies through the magical world, he'll use his arsenal of smarts, charms and beauty to sway the masses, fight a war and maybe find a boyfriend or two along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Nargles and Wizards

**Author's Note:**

> This story is mostly for kicks and giggles. It was inspired by _Lily's Son_ by DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan and _Androgynous Lover_ by Watermelonsmellinfellon.

Chapter One

**_Of Secrets and Vanishing Glasses_ **

 

For the most part, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, were perfectly normal. They had moved to the tranquil community shortly after marrying some fifteen years earlier due to Mr. Dursley’s promotion to Director of Grunnings, a firm that made drills, not too far from their home. Vernon Dursley was a large, robust man with hardly any neck, and a very large mustache. Petunia Dursley (nee Evans) was slender and blonde with a long neck that was very useful as she spent what time she had spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son named Dudley whom they adored and spoiled rotten, and another child living in their home called Helen.

Nearly ten years ago the Dursley’s had found themselves the guardian of an orphaned babe Petunia had found on the front step on the morning of November the 2nd. After the birth of her son, Petunia had desperately wished for a daughter, but numerous miscarriages long before his birth had left her barren. Her pregnancy with him had been unbearable, and despite her desire for another child, she wasn’t willing to undergo such troubles again. Petunia had resigned herself to the fact she would never have another child, so on that brisk Fall morning when she’d opened the door to put out the empty milk bottles and found a baby, her momentary shock had melted away into wonder as she picked up the infant whose tight vermillion curls haloed a cherubic face. When those eyes opened and she was greeted by large, almond shaped emerald orbs, her heart fluttered and soared. She would have a daughter by the end of that day, and Dudley a sister.

Since then, little had changed in Privet Drive. The sun still rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursley’s front door; inside the living room, the progress of time was captured in photographs. Ten years ago, Dudley Dursley looked like a large pink beach ball adorning different-colored bonnets and his sister, Helen, a lovely little doll in frilly dresses and bows – but Dudley and Helen were no longer babies, and the photographs now showed a large blonde riding his bicycle, a redheaded girl wearing a tiara and sash while holding a bouquet of flowers, a family enjoying an outing at the carnival, and both children being hugged and kissed by their mother.

Yes, for the most part, the Dursley family was quite normal – they were the last sort you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, as they didn’t hold with such nonsense. However, like any proper family, they are not without their secrets, and it Petunia’s greatest fear that one day everyone would find out the truth. Helen Potter-Dursley was, at first, second and even after a hard scrutinizing glance, a girl; from her bright red hair that fell in curls to her waist, to the doll-like structure of her face, little button nose, and rose-colored lips – she looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual child; something Petunia prided in as Helen’s appearance won them many awards and ribbons in the local child pageants. But Helen was not a little girl; sounded like one and acted like one, but Helen was biologically male. And if you were to ask Helen how she felt about being a boy who was kept in dresses and kitten heels, she’d promptly tell you to sod off.

Helen, or Harry as he preferred to go by but is never addressed as, is always the first to wake up in the morning. At five o’clock sharply, he’s out of bed and headed for a well-needed shower. His towel, like the rest of his bedroom, is pink and fluffy, with unicorn designs that his Aunt Petunia (yes, _Mum_ was in fact, his aunt – they’d told him that much early on) insisted suited him. Like always it is a hassle to wash his hair clean, and Harry both loves and hates how the shampoo leaves his hair smelling of strawberries, and the gel the same. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t allow him to use anything that wasn’t fruit scented – this week it was strawberries.

Back in his god awful bedroom where the translucent cherry-colored curtains billow in the air and the air smelled of cloying sugar, Harry secures his towel around his waist, kicks off his white fur slippers and plops down in front of his vanity. He begins to time-consuming process of preparing himself, all the while musing if all women had to go through the same thing – Aunt Petunia said beauty took time and hurt quite a bit. Harry knew that much from experience. It always hurt whenever she scrubbed his skin clean a day before a pageant or had his hair done in some tight up-do.

With his skin smelling of subtle berries and smooth to the touch, Harry opens up the glitter box of makeup and takes out concealer. Without the makeup to cover it up, the scar on his forehead was glaring. Aunt Petunia had told him he’d gotten it during an attack on his family when he was just a little over a year old; the bad guy that had murdered his parents had left Harry with that scar so that he could find him later on, she’d said, which was why they dressed him as a girl and called him Helen; to protect him. Harry hadn’t a reason not to believe her as his relatives had always protected him – even Dudley, who was a horrid bully to him at times, always beat up any boys that tried to steal kisses from him or flirt; which Harry still thought was weird because as ten-year-olds surely they shouldn’t care about boyfriends or girlfriends. Besides, Harry wasn’t into boys; at least, he didn’t think so.

Applying the concealer and spraying setting spray over the spot so it doesn’t rub off or sweat away, Harry moved on to glossing his lips till they were shimmered, brushing the knots from his hair and hair mousse for volume and shine, and – after a quick glance at that clock to see it was five til six – he moved to dress in the clothing Aunt Petunia had left out. She’d set out frilly white dress with a big ivory bow at waist, white pantyhose, and ivory flats with white bows.

As he dressed, Harry tried to figure out why he was wearing a dress today and not a skirt and blouse/jumper. There weren’t any local or regional pageants underway – least not any he’d been made aware of – and, besides, Aunt Petunia had promised him he’d have a month off from competing to focus on his education. Harry wasn’t failing by any means, but he’d much rather be in a classroom then a changing room being primped and dolled up for a competition he was bound to win because he was – of course – the prettier than most of the girls who joined it. That and Aunt Petunia said his singing voice put even angels to shame.

So, if it wasn’t an upcoming competition it must be something else. While Harry was musing this, Aunt Petunia chose that moment to make herself known by knocking on his door sharply and announcing herself as she opened it, “Helen, love, it's Mummy.”

“Morning, Aunt – Mummy,” Harry said with a plastered smile as he allows his aunt to embrace him. She’s still wearing her bathrobe, so she was probably on her way to the bathroom to shower but decided to check up on Harry first. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Petunia said as she ushered Harry over to the vanity and picked up a brush. “Now you know today is a very important day, as it’s – “

“Another pageant?” interrupted Harry with a small pout of the lips.

“Don’t interrupt, Helen, it’s rude,” reprimanded Petunia. “And no, love. It’s not another pageant. The next ones being held in Lincolnshire and that’s not for another three weeks – no, today is Dudley’s birthday and we’ll be going out to the zoo and then dinner with Marge.”

“Is Auntie Marge’s leg still broken?” asked Harry as he watched Petunia fashion a bow with a strand of lace.

“Yes, so she won’t be able to make it out here to join us,” Petunia said, tousling a few curls to give them more bounce and fretting with bow at the back of Harry’s head before deeming him to be presentable.

“Is anyone else coming with us to the zoo?” Harry tucks a wispy curl behind his ear as he stands and internally sighs as Petunia smooths away the wrinkles from his dress and fiddles with the bow.

“Oh, yes, Dudley’s friend so you know what you must do.”

 _What you must do_ – also known as, don’t let anyone even assume that you’re anything but a normal little girl. But, as prior mentioned, Harry Potter was not a normal little girl; Harry wasn’t even a girl to begin with – but that hasn’t stopped Petunia and Vernon from telling anyone who’d listen about their sweet-natured daughter, Helen.

* * *

 

When Harry went down to the kitchen the table was almost hidden underneath all of Dudley’s birthday presents – it even looked like he’d finally gotten the new computer, television and racing cycle he’d been bellyaching about. Why Dudley wanted a racing bike when he hated exercising and was borderline obese (Aunt Petunia was adamant that it was baby fat – baby fat she tells you!) Harry would never know. Though Harry knew if Aunt Petunia allowed him to eat as much as Dudley did, he’d be quite fat too; she would never allow it, of course. She had to keep his trim figure, as it was an assist that they simply could not afford defiling.  

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was counting all of Dudley’s presents. “Good morning, poppet,” he greeted him, placing a kiss on Harry’s hair before sitting down and hiding behind that morning's _Times_.

“Morning, daddy,” Harry responded automatically without thought as he straightened and pointed to the mountain of presents. “He’s got thirty-seven presents this year.”

“What of it, love?”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and pursued his lips to keep from sulking. “Well, I don’t think it’s quite fair. I have to work for all my presents.” _Along with everything else,_ Harry thinks none to bitterly. He wasn’t spoiled by any means – though a great load of people did think him so. Everything that he received was earned; whether it was from helping out with the chores, tutoring Dudley or winning a competition that’ll leave his face plastered across every supermarket cookie box – his aunt and uncle rewarded him accordingly. This treatment had, at the very least, taught him to appreciate the possessions he did have and care for them rather than destroy them within a few short days like Dudley often did.

“Helen, we’ve talked about this,” tutted Uncle Vernon as he lowered his paper to peer at him. “All your winnings go towards your upkeep and education because – “

“Because my parents didn’t leave me a thing when they died,” Harry said with a sigh. “I know.”

“I know it doesn’t seem quite fair, poppet, but everything we do prepares you for a successful future.”

“I know, and I’m very grateful for that, daddy.”

“Good lass. Now, make me a spot of coffee – straight black, as always.”

Harry was brewing the coffee by the time Dudley arrived in with Petunia. Dudley had grown to look a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, very little neck, watery blue eyes, and thick blonde hair that lay smoothly on his head. Aunt Petunia always said Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry digressed, but he kept his comments to himself. Harry, on the other hand, took after his deceased mother, Lily, who was Petunia’s sister. Petunia didn’t speak much about Harry’s late parents, and while Harry yearned to know about them, he was mostly content with the life he had; he had his health, nutrition, education and a family that treated him well – so while he may never know what it was like to have the unconditional love his birth mother and protectiveness of his father, he was thankful for the family he did have; odd as they were.

Dudley, who’d been bemoaning the fact that he’d only had thirty-seven presents ( _spoiled, rotten boy!_ Harry thinks as he pours Vernon a cup of coffee) smiles at him smugly when Petunia promised him two more presents while they were out. Harry sticks his tongue out at him when Petunia’s back was turned and sits neatly beside Vernon as Petunia started up on breakfast. He’d offered to help but she firmly told him not to come near the stove least he muck up his dress with grease. Dudley was allowed a plate of whatever suited him, but Harry was given two strips of bacon, a small portion of scrambled eggs, two slices of toast and a bowl of sugarless porridge.

A quarter past seven, the doorbell rang and Dudley’s best mate, Piers Polkiss walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny, rat-looking boy with dusty brown hair. He, like Dudley, took pleasure in beating people up, and usually held their arms behind their back while Dudley pounded them senseless. He also fancied Harry, if Dudley’s words were to be taken into face-value.

Half an hour later, Harry was squished in the back seat of Uncle Vernon’s car with Piers and Dudley on either side of him. Before he’d gotten into the car, Petunia had once more told him to behave himself and act accordingly, along with ensuring that nothing strange happens during the outing. The problem with that was, however, that strange and unexplainable things had always happened to or around Harry. His aunt and uncle pretended it never happened, but Harry couldn’t so easily brush the weird occurrences. Like when he'd ended up on the school roof once after Racheal Earl had tried to pull his dress off him, and another time when he’d turned his primary school teachers head blue after she’d berated him for something Dudley did.

But today, he was determined to ensure nothing went wrong; it was Dudley’s birthday after all, and Aunt Petunia might not forgive him if he ruined it for him, pseudo-daughter or not. During the drive to the zoo, Piers kept trying to feel him up to which Dudley threatened to “beat the living snot out of him if he tried” quietly, and Harry was reminded of a dream he’d had of a flying motorcycle when he’d seen one zoom past.

It was rather warm that Saturday and the zoo was bustling with families enjoy the sunny day. Toddlers ran about with brightly colored balloons, and excited laughter and chatter could be heard all over. Uncle Vernon brought them all large chocolate ice creams despite Petunia moaning about Harry not being allowed to eat sweets until next Sunday (his dessert day) and they set to the primates' section, looking at the great apes, with keen interest. Dudley mimicked one of the apes to which Harry said he and the ape could be twins. By lunchtime, Harry had concluded that Dudley was, in fact, not human at all because no normal child should be able to consume two jumbo knickerbockers in a matter of minutes without becoming sick. But, overall, he was having a grand time.

When they reached their final stop of the day, the reptile house, it was cool and dark with lit windows all along the walls. All sorts of lizards and snakes crawled and slithered over bits of wood and stone from behind glass displays. Piers and Dudley hadn’t cared for those, insisting that the cool snakes were the ones that were huge, poisonous cobras and man-crushing pythons. Dudley found the biggest snake soon enough, and judging from by its size, Harry thought that it could have wrapped itself body around Uncle Vernon’s car twice and crush it like a tin can. At the moment, however, it didn’t look to be in the mood – it was actually sleeping at the moment, much to Dudley’s annoyance.

“Make it move,” he demanded of his father, and Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t so much as twitch.

Dudley smacked his hands against the glass, yelling for the snake to move, and Harry exchanged a startled look with Aunt Petunia. It would mortify her to no end if the zoo workers came in to see about all the commotion, and she quickly ushers Piers and Dudley away from the slumbering boa constrictor to find more lively serpents. Uncle Vernon followed behind, and Harry is left with the snake. It opened its eyes and ever so slowly, raised its head to eye level and _winked_ at Harry. Harry was flabbergasted.

“Oh, hello,” Harry said softly, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. They weren’t, and he offers the snake a coy smile. “Aren’t you just a handsome one.”

The snake flicked out its tongue and raised its body up off the ground, coiling it around a thick branch and Harry could swear it was _flirting_ with him. “I like your scales… and body. It’s very… flexible.” Heaven have mercy on his soul he was flirting back with a snake – Aunt Petunia would have a field day if she saw him. “Where’d you come from anyway?”

The snake jabbed its tail at a small sign next to the glass, and Harry looked it over. _Boa Constrictor, Brazil_. “Was it nice there?” The snake points to the sign again and Harry read it a little more closely. _This specimen was bred in the zoo._ “Oh, I see. So you never been to Brazil?”

The snakes shook it head.

“You never knew your mum and dad then?” Harry asked quietly, if not a bit sadly. “Neither do I – they died when I was really young, you see, and my relatives took me in – “

Harry was rudely pushed out the way by Dudley and thrown onto his bum on the floor. Glaring at his horrid cousin and his friends, Harry wanted nothing more than for the both of them to fall into the habitat tank with the snake – and it happened. He couldn’t explain how, but one second the glass was there and the next it was gone. Piers and Dudley toppled over the edge and fell into the small body of water with horrified screams. Harry was too shocked to scream as the great snake was slithering out of the tank and onto the floor, and he swore as it passed by him it said in a low, hissing voice, “ _Brazil, here I come. Thanks, amigo_.”

Upon spotting his aunt and uncle’s forms trying to fight their way over as the crowd of people screamed and ran for the doors, Harry jumped to his feet and cried out in terror as well. “Mummy! Mummy!” he yelled out over and over until Petunia threw her arms around him, yelling for Uncle Vernon to do something as Piers and Dudley banged on the glass.

The zoo keepers got them out a few minutes later, and after the director himself had given Petunia a strong cup of sweet tea and apologized profusely for the incident, Harry was sniffling to Uncle Vernon. “It was horrible, daddy. I thought the snake was going to get me – it was so close and I was so scared…”

“I know, poppet. I know. You’re alright now.”

 _Idiots, the whole lot of them,_ Harry thought when the zoo keepers actually believed him when he’d said he didn’t know what had happened. The fact that they quickly accepted the disappearance of the glass like it hadn’t been there to begin with was astounding, and not really all that surprising; some people just were like that. His aunt and uncle had guessed enough that he was behind it, but he wasn’t scolded for it. Aunt Petunia did give him a conflicted look every now and then on the drive back to drop off Piers, but Harry continued his frightened ruse.

Much later on when they’d returned from Marge’s, Harry was awake in bed and listening to the sound of his relatives snoozing. For almost ten years he’d lived with the Dursley’s, and each of those days were spent hiding himself from the world. Everything about him was secretive, from the parents he never knew, to the man that murdered them, to his own gender. When he’d been younger, Harry had always wished that he could, for once, be just like any other boy; not a boy dressed as a girl or pretending to be something he clearly wasn’t – just another normal boy, no different from the rest.

But as he’d soon enough find out, he was far from normal as could be.

 


End file.
